


found a graveyard in your drawer

by easystreets



Series: Swimming Pool [1]
Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: As always!, Episode: The Gang Goes To Hell Part Two, M/M, Mental Illness, Regret, Yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:28:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26436430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/easystreets/pseuds/easystreets
Summary: Dennis had wanted to die, alright, but not like this.Or: Now he has Mac’s eyes (had they always been so capable of darkness? Did Mac want to die with that hurt look on his face?) darting back and forth, trying to take in Dennis before they’re gone and forgotten, rotting at the bottom of the sea.
Relationships: Mac McDonald/Dennis Reynolds
Series: Swimming Pool [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1927165
Comments: 12
Kudos: 42





	found a graveyard in your drawer

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning for Dennis having some suicidal thoughts. Thanks for reading!

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Suicide had always been kept in his back pocket, neatly pressed like a kerchief, delicate and almost ostentatious. It was an escape plan; the reverse form of those oxygen masks they had on planes in case the whole thing crashed and burnt. Sometimes, Dennis pulled it out, cut his hands on the edge of how momentous it was, and shoved it back in his pockets for another terrible day. It had to be perfect-- if he was going to hypothetically kill himself-- because he wouldn't accept anything less. Because he was perfect and intended to die that way.

It was supposed to be, he thinks, with the water licking at his shoulders, in his control. He was supposed to be alone, slumped beautifully in a bathtub or laying ethereally on some South Philly motel bed, a puddle of blood flowering around him, face still and angelic. Notes mailed out; the online banking configured so that Mac wouldn't run their credit even further into the ground. He still needed to have his will figured out— did he even have one? Now he has Mac’s eyes (had they always been so capable of darkness? Did Mac want to _die_ with that hurt look on his face?) darting back and forth, trying to take in Dennis before they’re gone and forgotten, rotting at the bottom of the sea, bodies frozen pushing themselves to the top, God they were fucking horrible, and the worst part is that he doesn't even _regret_ most of it, Dennis is most definitely going to be burning in Hell, _alone_ \--

He takes a deep breath and listens to Mac pray for their salvation. If Mac wants to believe in shirtless ripped Jesus and whatever keeps him coming back to Dennis and in miracles-- the two are possibly one and the same--, then Dennis will let him. Maybe Mac's deranged prayers could somehow work. If there really is anyone out there. But Dennis has given up any sort of last desperate plea for himself. He-- he doesn’t want to die fighting like a vengeful scrapyard dog. He doesn’t want to die guilty and ashamed, the way he’s been scraping along his whole life.

He doesn’t want to die.

Dennis tries not to mediate on the fact. He tries to see if he’s really and truly broken Mac. Hopefully he hasn’t; hopefully in Gay Heaven Mac will greet him with a grin and a bottle of Coors, saying something like _want me to massage your pecs, dude? Want to watch Fight Club? Wanna hang out forever?_ Hopefully Mac forgets about the letters, how Dennis had hidden and opened every single piece of commissary stationary. Was that love? Mac loved like a debilitating disease, something that was inevitable, like he was born loving Dennis, like it was all he ever knew, a certainty, like God. And yeah, Dennis can admit how obvious Mac is now, and it hurts a little that he’ll never know what it would be like to be loved openly and without that painful hesitation that tints Mac’s every move, but there’s no sense in worrying about that now. Because this is all they have left. This is the glassy reflection they’ve been staring at for so damn long; this is the last bridge they’ve finally burnt. This is the ending they’ve made for themselves. There is no going back from here, there is no amount of Frank’s money that can possibly bail them out of this, there is no scheme that they can quickly and messily conjure. This is it. This is what's become of them.

“I love you, sis,” he admits, because there really is no going back now, and it’s easier than saying it to Mac. He does love Dee, at least sometimes, which is more he can say for most people. She understands him better than anyone else, Dennis supposes-- they both grew up with Frank as their fucking dad and they both went down the same shitty paths they'd sworn they would never take. The water is lapping at his neck. It’s pressing his collared Tom Ford shirt against his skin and tracking mascara down his cheeks; Dennis hopes he’s beautiful when they drag his body up, blue and bloated. Dee grins at him for a split second before she says anything, like she’s seeing something he doesn’t, like she knows that this is it for them. Her eyes flash darkly at him, and for a moment, he finds himself meaning the _I love you, sis_ , because she knows him. Because she understands what it’s like to want to die beautifully.

“Whatever,” Dee spits. Her eyes shutter close; the acrid sting of saltwater in his face is so incredibly sudden that he can’t say anything, just watch as she ducks under, blonde head bobbing, leaving him behind. She got the last word-- Dennis is slightly impressed. And also fucking livid-- how dare she? Fucking good for nothing bitch, goddammit, he should have fucking ate _her_ in the womb--

“Unbelievable,” he sputters, the familiar rage enveloping him again, swallowing him whole until all he sees is red. No. No. Please not this. He doesn't want to die mad, dammit, but he loves her! He tried-- _he is trying_ , right now, to fix all the bullshit they've been through, to at least die happy after a fucking miserable life full of disappointment. He loves her! They grew up together and spent years twisting their twin tree branches around each other, strangling each other with their scant successes, and now this? Is this how they end in the same place they started, with nothing to show for it? Is this it?

“Whatever,” Dennis repeats, his voice small. Whatever, he thinks. It’s not like life had ever been that fucking great. It’s not like he has anyone to leave anyone behind. This is a room. This is a prison, and it’s full of people who won’t be missed. Dennis slips under and tries to memorize the ridges in Mac’s hand, trace the scars before their skeletons are tangled together, 2000 feet under the sea. Mac mouths something like _I love you_ , and Dennis shuts his eyes.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have Big Feelings about this, please drop a comment! I don't have as much time to write because of school and other obligations, but when I do, I love writing for this fandom. Everyone is so kind. <3


End file.
